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malleleothreesome · 10 months

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Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand.

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property.

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic?

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater.

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous.

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air.

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this.

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest.

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined.

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor.

Fellow feels his pants tighten.

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will.

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show.

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks.

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful.

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream.

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes.

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates.

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront.

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll."

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours."

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

#Fellow Honest #Fellow Honest Smut #Twisted Wonderland Smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst fellow honest x reader smut #twst fellow honest smut #ferro honest #ferro honest smut #twst fellow #twst ferro #fellow honest x reader #ferro honest x reader #twisted wonderland fellow honest #stage in playful land #my writing

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space-mango-company · 6 months

Text

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune part two #baron harkonnen #baron vladimir harkonnen #house harkonnen #house atreides #giedi prime #austin butler #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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n3ptoonz · 9 months

Note

Part 2 of MK1 men pushing the reader to a wall while kissing them, please? 😊

i mean i GUESS i can do that 🤭 since you asked so nicely! part one here

how liu kang, reiko, sub-zero, havik, johnny cage, scorpion, and geras go about pushing reader to the wall while kissing them

just know it may not show the long pauses i took while writing this but know IT HAPPENED!! THE THINGS I DO FOR YALL🫵🏾don't say i never did none😫

havik's regeneration mentioned. i've also been told havik looks like that on purpose so like, let's act like he can make his face go back to where it was for the sake of shits, giggles, and pandering XD

tags: @luna18night20 @momopad

warnings: suggestive, fluff elements, sphinx tried her best, there will not be a part 3 im sorry y'all 💔 BUT shao and kenshi are here

Liu Kang

Liu Kang was rarely ever rough with you. In fact, the only way he'd do it is if you either verbally say it's fine, or if he knows you're poking the bear just to get a reaction. And when you get a reaction...there's no going back. You've kissed with your back to the wall several times, and every time was gentle and loving and laced with care. However, if you've presented that you were that desperate for him to give you the attention you deserve, he will gladly be a little rougher in pushing you back with his lips on yours. Just be prepared for him to leave some handprints on your waist.

Reiko

Reiko is a warrior. Hardened by battle and discipline, so the way he kisses you usually starts off that way. He can't help it. Not only is it the way he was raised and what he was told a man is "supposed to be", but it also came with how his partners were to be treated. When it came to you his sense of duty and protection spiked every single time. So here you were, well within his unintentional bear hug as your back was against the wall. His kisses always started off like he was going away to war/fight (because he usually was) but he would eventually melt and become smoother because you're by his side.

Sub-Zero

Bi-Han, a truly complex character. I believe that whoever captures his heart will be the main obsession in his life. In this case, it is you. He constantly needs to be on you, around you, see you, hear you, you name it. He can't get enough of your lips and this is especially apparent the way he's almost always pushing you to the wall while kissing you. Can we blame him? He's a tall hunk of touch-starved and the only thing that will satiate that hunger is roughly making out with you every chance he gets all while still knowing how to treat you like a porcelain antique.

Havik

Havik...this guy. Even though I'm pretty sure it's not canon I still feel like he'd regenerate and degenerate for fun and for different purposes/occasions. For the sake of my sanity I can say I found him fine as hell before his face got fucked up, and so did you. But you don't mind him either way because you love his crazy ass. Allow me to set the scene: You say something snappy to get his attention and boom...he regenerates his facial wounds just to back you against the wall and shut you up with pure smugness and arrogance behind his kiss. But, this is what you wanted, nonetheless. And you'd do it again!

Johnny Cage

Who's to say Johnny Cage wouldn't try to get you in one of his films just so he could keep getting takes of him backing you to a wall and kissing you? For Elder God's sakes, he's the one who wrote the script! And of course it's something dramatic like him being a villain that captures the hero and tries to convince them to ditch their position to be with him. Dude would totally think he's Loki (did i say that bc i think it would be hot if Loki did that to me? ..don't worry about it!) He's for sure fucking up his takes on purpose and you know this, but you only pretend to be irritated and maybe even fuck up a few yourself.

Scorpion

Kuai Liang, the romantic this man is. Like Liu Kang, he's never rough with you. Except it would take a little more convincing to let him know it's fine for him to act on his feelings when he wants to. With him, his kisses are slow and gentle. They will always start off like that even if he has a hard day. All he wants is to hold you, but it's like whenever your back hits the wall a gear starts turning in his brain. The idea of you having nowhere to go and enjoying it? Not even an Elder God is pulling him from your embrace. He gets handsy and a lot more affectionate around this time; he's kissing your face, neck, and shoulders too, because why the hell not?

Geras

Geras is a special case. He's an immortal who has never experienced romantic love before. So naturally you will have to teach him some things and even point out things he has observed that can be taken as romantic love. But he's still a man who has seen a lot, so this guy knows what kissing is and how to kiss. Surely you didn't think this giant fine ass immortal being didn't know how to treat his partner? Crazy talk! Understand that when you introduce the classic wall kiss by showing him what to do, he's leaning in to kiss you as he lifts you in his arms with no effort to be found and there won't be kissing going on much longer!

a/n: thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed! collapses onto the ground

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suiana · 9 months

Note

yo i saw ur rb && feel free to write about the renting concept!!! if u do pls tag me i’d love to see <33 😋

😻😻 rhanks genie

(yandere! rental boyfriend x gn! reader) (shitpost kinda) (concept based on this post)

you know, it's not like you were ugly, dumb or poor. in fact, you consider yourself rather attractive, smart and quite rich. but it seems that no one has noticed that which... might've been why you were single for a very long period of time.

very meaning from when you were born up until recently.

you had always desired for a relationship. wanting to experience the joys of love, the romance, the contentment you get whenever you're with that special someone.

unfortunately you never got to experience that. never. even after putting down your dignity and renting a boyfriend.

you had rented a rather pretty looking guy from this... dodgy website called 'rent-a-darling'? was that the name? it probably is. what a weird website it's called. anyways, it was basically a rental boyfriend/girlfriend website and you had absolutely struck gold with it.

perfect face, perfect body, incredibly intelligent... he was basically a work of art. and his personality wasn't half that bad either! he cracked jokes and they were entertaining enough! he made you laugh, feel better about your miserable love life...

but he just wasn't it.

so you decided to end contact with him. there was no point in continuing that rental service anyways. it's not like he'd like you back even if you fell for him.

except that was exactly what happened?? a few days after you officially ended your contact with your absolute god of a rental boyfriend, he showed up at your doorstep, panting as a lovesick look paints his beautiful features.

you were concerned to say the least. after all, you had never seen him act in such a way before. which was why you allowed him in... which led you to your current situation which was far from ideal.

"could you let me go please? my arms are sore..."

"you know, you're really cute like this."

you merely sigh in response, looking away as you grow awkward under his obsessed gaze. this has been the fifth day since he tied you up, only allowing you to leave the bed for meals and the toilet.

and in those five days he's openly admitted to be in love with you.

while it was nice and endearing to hear such words, you only wish it was from someone you actually loved back. and maybe not as crazy as this guy was.

"can you please let me go? do you want money or something? i can give it to you-"

"what i want is your love, and that cannot be bought with money."

he interjects promptly, still smiling at you with his pearly white teeth which were honestly starting to creep you out. why were they so white? why was he so objectively perfect? and why was he madly obsessed with you?

"hey can i just ask something? why are you so obsessed? like just why."

he pauses for a second, hummung contently as he shuts his eyes for a bit.

"I'm not sure why,"

his eyes open again and he continues his sentence. this time, you can't help but feel an impending sense of dread in your gut when he speaks.

"i guess i just really adore you."

he then giggles oddly, tugging at your bedsheets as his face nears yours.

"you complete me, my love."

you grimace as his face nears yours. ugh, what you wanted was that lovey dovey shit you saw on television. not whatever this was. kidnapping and constant moans of how your captor loves you.

but oh well, it is a relationship. just not the one you wanted. maybe you could learn to deal with it-

"darling! if you tell me how much you love me, block everyone else you know, leave your job, and promise to run away with me, I'll untie you! how about it?"

...yeah, you're not dealing with this. perhaps you're just not meant for love.

#suiana's sinners #suiana's secret lover #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere rental boyfriend #yandere rental boyfriend x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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prettyboykatsuki · 10 months

Text

✮ tags ; gn!reader, implied bottom reader, semi-erotic and bloody fingersucking, romance, struggling with intimacy on astarions part, not an established relationship fr, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.6k (literally what in the fucking world)

✮ a/n ; *smacks astarions back* you can fit so much projection onto this thing.

canon divergent i.e. this takes place during act two but reader doesn't sleep w astarion in act one. it's explained in da fic.

The taste of intimacy is acrid.

It's bitter and sharp to the senses. In many ways, he finds it unpleasant. Intolerable. He's lost in thought, primarily caught up in the sensation of your skin pressed against his.

Too much, he decides, this entire affair is proving to be too much.

"You know, there's no need for theatrics," He can almost hear the recoil in his own voice, like hiding away into the shadows when dawn approaches. It's instinctive. "All this...poetry is quite thoughtful but very unnecessary."

Yes. Unnecessary. Somehow it feels violent, though it's anything but. You pull away from him and he winces at your expression - genuine confusion draped across your face. Your skin is hotter than the sun, much warmer than his. You're attractive.

Astarion wonders if he can assess you as beautiful. If he's allowed to use something so flowery.

He can't stop thinking about it. He's played the part of a lover before, so kissing and touching in quiet whispers is not unfamiliar. If that's the sort of affair you wish to have, than Astarion can be apart of it no problem. Whatever makes your desire towards him tangible, whatever you want. The last part he doesn't say out loud, or to himself.

But it was real, just a moment ago, wasn't it? The feeling of your lips on his forehead and the crook of his shoulder was real. The words of affection were real. He was looking for fun, debauchery, pleasure.

This is not that, he decides. He decides, too, that he does not like it.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh don't play dumb, darling," He says, his throat tightening. It's natural to him, in a way. "Though your heroic romantic gestures are quite something, they're very unnecessary. We both know what we're here for, do we not? A little roughing up is fine."

You pause, and you stare. Your eyes are clear, like the water of the open ocean surrounding the lower city. Even in the darkness, he can see you perfectly. You can see him too, but he can't see himself even in the reflection of your gaze. He wonders if that is some kind of mercy, but remembers quickly that no god has ever shown him such kindness.

And you wouldn't either, or you shouldn't. He convinces himself that its a courtesy, and that this conversation is an attempt at honest between you. He's expecting something different. Maybe a snarky laugh of approval, or a widening set of eyes. Lurid with excitement in all the ways you're okay to defile him.

Most people he's laid with have given him the same. They're pleased with his fluidity. He shows it off like he's water in a beautiful chalice, look at all the forms I can take and adore me.

And yet, you're all but silent. What a terrible conversation to have when he's almost inside of you, he thinks.

"If that is what you desire," You says, your words slow. You then, so softly, draw your thumb over his cheek bone. It takes strength not to recoil. He almost wants to mock you. Wants to bite at the gentle caress of your hand, wants to make you bleed. "But I would've hoped my gestures conveyed my feelings a little better than this."

Shit. Shit.

"Feelings? Have you really taken a page out of the wizards book and written me a poem?"

"It would be easy enough to do," You say, so easily and so naturally - he can't help but show that he is startled. Shaken by the sincerity of every word. Bitter. "If you desire such gestures."

A feeling coils in his chest. He cannot distinguish his urges from each other. Whether it is hunger or desire. Whether to push you away or cling to you closer. He cannot make sense of any of it, despite his efforts. He doesn't need any blood, he's sure - but his mind lacks clarity.

Is he afraid or angry? He does not remember how to tell the difference between those two emotions, either.

"We're here for sex, you know?" He says, proactively pushing into old habits. His eyes feel heavy in their sockets, like their weighed by his own need to be desired perfectly. He seduces you easily. Lowers his lids and parts his lips, snakes a hand against your waist and lets you fall forward until you collapse against his chest. "Hot, lecherous, burning pleasure. Such romantics are best saved for..."

You look at him, and you want him. But it is not the same. Even he is not so foolish as to deny something you make so obvious.

"For?"

The words someone you love do not leave his lips, though they threaten to. "Someone more suitable."

"There's no one so suitable as you," You say, and the words do not sound damning. They do not intend to please him. They're not coated in myth or covered in lies. They're like you, honest and rich. "And that pleasure can be found all the same with regards to what I do."

Astarion understands little of you. Never has, in full. He finds your character damning, finds your kindness often irritable. His plan to seduce you had worked, he thought. You had taken some kind of liking to him. Enough that you act against yourself, just to appease him at times. To clumsily win him over by being a little bad, or being silver-tongued.

But you hadn't laid a hand on him despite his efforts. Without taking anything, you shield him from harm. You kill the people who wish to kill him. He'd never stopped trying to seduce you, because it benefits him to play the part of prized possession to the strong.

He thought your acceptance of his request meant you had finally broken. That he could go through with it.

Yet, you touch him like this - as you have been all evening. You brought a bedroll to fuck him in the woods of all places. Your hands are soft, and warm. You're reverent. He's kissed plenty of people, and played lovers even more than that. It was his lifes work, after all.

But it is impossible to deny that you're different, despite his best efforts to believe you are not.

Astarion isn't familiar with your gestures. He cannot hold his ground against honesty when his existence is passing and pleasant - ephemeral as a white lie.

"Astarion," You say, clear. You enunciate his name. It is not intended to have any weight, yet it crushes him. His chest tightens. Aches. It is all so strangely miserable. He wants to interrupt you, but cannot fix his lips to do such a thing "I wish to make love to you. You're welcome to find it unnecessary."

A kiss. Your mouth is warm, and tastes faintly like the sweet wine you had before bed. Your hands cup around his nape, and your other hand keeps you upright. He won't fall for it but his body does not listen, makes him melt comfortably into the bedroll. You kiss and kiss and kiss, and it is well-practiced like you have loved many times before him.

You must know something better than him.

Still. There is not enough strength in his limbs to fight you. His eyes blink open when you've stopped. A scream almost rips from him, but he's frozen in place instead. He can fight now. He could fight this.

The nails he tries to scratch you with, dig deep onto your waist. He closes his eyes. A begging for you to stay.

"Darling, really," His voice cracks. A touch so gentle and unfamiliar may be the thing to flay him open - cut him into pieces and open him up the blackened night sky. His lips feel cracked, hands shaking. "Wholly unnecessary."

There is no way out from this. From his feelings for you. How terrible.

You examine him quietly, then smile like you know everything. He is so much older than you, yet you smile like you've lived one thousand more lives. Maybe you have.

"Astarion," You mumble, your hands finding his hands. You lock your fingers together, your touch making his nerves fire whenever you brush along them. Your free hand ghosts his lips. "Look at me,"

Then, very suddenly, you push your thumb against the point of his fang. It punctures you in no small wound, and you push until the blood spills. You wince, but it's barely there. You let the blood spill into his parted mouth, let the taste of it fetter onto his lips and tongue. It's almost saccharine. He leans up on instinct, latching himself to it. He drinks from your self-inflicted wound with his eyes lidded, with desperation so unsightly.

You don't slink back. You watch onto him fondly. Watch him eat recklessly. Watch him swallow around you.

You already know what he is, he realizes, too late. The weight of your deliberateness nearly buries him. Unpleasant eyes, that know everything about him without any modicum of effort.

The feeling of anxiety, of restlessness well up even deeper inside him. The bitter unforgiving irony of finding intimacy with you lingers still. There is no escaping the thought that it will be you who betrays him first, and not someone else.

But the taste of blood, your blood, washes it all out. The gentle touch of your skin unsettles him as much as it makes him needy. He wants to be adored, and be adored by you.

He wants you in a way that does not incite any instinct. He works against each one trying to look you in the eyes.

When he manages, you are there and you are kind. You want to make love to him. He wants, very desperately, to believe it is possible. That such a ridiculous thing exists outside of a performance.

His voice is soft as a whisper. "I guess it's not impossible to appease you,"

You kiss the corner of his mouth and grin. He doesn't flinch this time.

"I'm quite relieved."

#astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #writing tag #astarion you are so similar to me!!!!! stop!!!!!!! identity theft is a crime mr magistrate!!!!!!!!!#also someone tell me if this is worth uploading on ao3 lol

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elliewill · 1 year

Text

A FOOL'S GAME. III

summary: a heated argument with your ex-girlfriend ellie turns into a steamy hatefuck neither of you were expecting.

warnings: 18+!!, mean!ellie, bratty!reader, reader w/female anatomy, mentions of infidelity, namecalling, choking, pet names, tribbing, box eating, finger fucking. 3.3k words.

a/n: smut written with hit different by sza in mind, maybe hits different by miss swift if you fw it. dedicated to sexy Star @totheblood

tags: @dyk3ification @girluvrr @totheblood @coeurify

part i / part ii

“I was in such a bad place and and I mean, it's not that I'm so much better right now, I’ve just been tryin–"

"You can’t keep using that as an excuse," you jumped in, slightly disappointed that you could predict the conversation. You had heard this all before. Nothing you could ever hear would ever justify why she treated you the way she did. "Do you have any idea how pathetic I felt? How lonely? Even then, I could never do what you did to me.”

“You have to trust me, Y/N. I- I was so fucking wrong. About everything," Ellie scrambled to reason with you. With one hand, she gestured as she spoke, while the other laid just over the hem of your shorts. It was always reassuring when she used to do that. Just a small squeeze on your thigh to bring you back to the present. "I did need you. I needed you then and I still do now."

But it didn’t have the same effect on you anymore. It disgusted you. It disgusted you so much, you almost wanted her to keep going. To keep pushing you and your boundaries. To want you so bad, that she couldn’t help herself. You agreed to become strangers again, but you knew that was the last thing you wanted. Her words meant nothing. You wanted her to fight for you, to love on you, to show you that you didn’t have to become strangers again. You wanted her to prove you so undeniably wrong.

"And what happened when I needed you? When I wanted so badly for you to love me the same way? I spent so many nights crying over you. All while you were face-fuckin’-deep in another girl’s pussy," you chastised her, your voice faltering ever so slightly as you choked back that stupid lump in your throat.The image of her infidelity would be etched in your mind forever. There wasn’t a moment of thinking about it that didn’t burn your blood hot and choke you up with tears. It was a hurt you were sure you’d never get over.

“All we did was fuck! It never meant anything to me!” Ellie exploded, spitefully swiping her hand off of your thigh.

“Oh, so I guess that means I’m supposed to forgive you? Sure, Ellie! Go ahead, fuck whoever you want! As long as it doesn’t mean anything right? Is that what you wanted me to say?”

While Ellie loved you, she knew how stubborn you were. Loyalty meant a lot to you, and she knew it. Well, fuck, it meant a lot to her too. But she couldn’t get a good read on you. Were you saying this shit because you were still angry? Or was it to punish her? Whatever it was, she had to give it to you; you knew exactly the things to say to rile her. To get under her skin and piss her off.

“God, you always do this shit. You don't have to be a bitch and rub it in my fucking face. I admit that I wasn't a good fucking person, I know! I'm fucking trying!"

“So why the fuck did you come here, Ellie?”

“I wanted to apo-”

“To apologize? Have you fucking learned nothing? You think an apology will magically make this shit go away? Make me forget what I saw? Fuck your apology,” you practically spat at her and the audacity she had. “Get this shit through your thick fucking skull. I don’t fucking forgive you.”

“No, you know what, Y/N? Fuck you! You’re right, I don’t know why I came over here. Don’t know why I ever fucking loved you.”

It felt like the whole world went quiet. Game over. The pit of disgust that sat in your chest exploded into rage. How did you end up screaming at each other again? Why did she always make you feel as if you weren’t allowed to be fuckin’ mad at what she did? Your face grew red with heat and sweat pricked your neck. You made sure to lock on to Ellie's gaze, so she'd be sure you weren't fucking around, and that your next words were absolutely intentional.

“I’m glad the feeling is mutual," you practically whispered, peering directly into those angry green eyes. You nodded slowly. "Now get the fuck out."

"I'm not moving," Ellie whispered back and shrugged with newfound confidence and crossed arms. Her temper might be her pitfall, but her willful attitude proved stronger. She came here to get you back and she was already in the midst of fucking it all up again — a spiteful captain on her own sinking ship.

"Ellie. Get the fuck out of my house," you hissed as you drew in toward her, her face only inches away from yours. You glared at each other like two hateful and bitter champions moments from entering the ring.

"I'm not. fucking. leaving," Ellie said, her voice gravelly and her breath brushing your lips. Her furrowed glare flickered from your lips to your eyes as her hand came up around the base of your throat. Her slender fingers grasped at your neck, pushing you down and onto the couch.

Deeply and desperately, your lips entangled with each others’ for the first time in what felt like fucking years as you laid beneath her on your sofa. By now, the heat that had started fire in your face had traveled its way right between your legs. Fuck, how long had it been? Weeks? Months? Since you had felt those lips on yours? Since you had melted around those fingers? Since you tasted her? If you were honest, there was something about Ellie calling you a bitch that had you dripping wet underneath those shorts.

In frantic frustration, both of your chests heaved as you rolled tongues and small breathless moans leaked through. Her rough hands traveled from your neck to your tits underneath the oversized tee you wear to bed, your nipples stiffening and aching from her reckless touch.

“Fuck me,” you managed to moan into her mouth, prompting her to break away from the kiss. Her eyes were dark with an unrecognizable, manic lust. She quickly stripped herself of her grey hoodie, white tank and sweats, leaving just her sports bra and boxers before returning her attention to you, those soft lips, and your chest.

“That’s right, baby,” she growled against your lips before dragging hers along your neck, brashly sucking and kissing, littering your skin with purplish love bites.

“Don’t fucking leave those marks on my neck, Ellie,” you warned her, feigning your composure as if she hadn’t left you completely breathless. You were too stubborn to admit that it felt so damn good for Ellie to claim you like this. To proudly mark her as yours after months of having frozen each other out. But god, you knew how you’d hear it from Maria and the girls on stable once they would see them.

“What? Don’t want anyone to know?” Ellie retorted defensively in between the painfully sweet, suckling bites on your collarbones. “Well, they need to know you’re fucking mine.”

As her lips drew lower on your neck, you pressed your soaking pussy harder into her knee, desperately trying to relieve yourself of the tension of your throbbing clit. You rocked against her, gnawing the inside of your cheek to mask the moaning that would’ve fallen from your lips - not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing how she still made you feel. But the harder you pushed into her, the harder she ground onto you, the strain already building in your abdomen. “So fuckin’ needy already. You’re gonna fuckin’ beg me to let you cum.”

“Fuck off,” you retorted, sliding your body up and away from her, playfully teasing her for thinking she had the control. The tension in your core began to dissipate, and throbbing nearly made you regret moving away from her touch. But you remained resolute. “I’m not gonna be begging you for shit.”

Just like that, her fingers came around the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down to reveal the soaking panties stuck to your heat. “I mean for someone who hates me so much, you still get this fuckin’ wet for me, huh?” But before you could snipe in return, her fingers wrapped around your panties and ripped the thin fabric into two, eager to lick up the mess you already made. “Look at this mess, baby. All over this perfect little pussy.”

“I’m not your fucking baby,” you reprimanded her, focused on sliding off the remnants of your shredded panties, eager to feel her fingers glide over your slick.

“Look at me when you fuckin’ say that,” she demanded, sliding two fingers into your aching pussy and bringing her left hand to your neck, driving you absolutely wild. You locked eyes with her as you struggled to catch your breath while her grip closed on your throat.

“I’m not… your f-fuckin’,” you whimpered, your clit throbbing from the way her hand wrapped around your neck like a necklace. At the same time, her fingers rhythmically danced on that soft, sweet spot in your cunt, leaving you at a loss for words, unable to finish your original sentence. You let a groan leave your lips in defeat, your back slowly arching to the sinful sound of Ellie’s heavy breathing and the gushing from her fingers pounding into you. “Shitttt, Ellie…”

“That’s what I thought,” she taunted. She pulled her glistening fingers out from your dripping cunt and delivered a wet blow straight onto your helpless clit, earning a satisfying yelp from you. But before she continued to fuck you, her fingers were in her mouth, cleaning up your slick off of them. Her eyes glued to yours, dark with lust. You’d be lying if you said the sight of her licking up the mess on her fingers didn’t make your pussy ache. But you’d never let her know that now. “I make this perfect little pussy feel so fuckin’ good, don’t I, baby?”

She was making you wait. She craved to hear those words spill from your lips so bad that she fucking dreamt about it. The sleepless nights almost felt painfully worth it to Ellie as she seized you up with her eyes, her gaze lingering on that glossy mess of a sweet spot between your spread legs, a growing ache starting in her own.

But of course, you’d rather walk across glass before admitting how much you missed the way she made your back arch. Instead, you wanted so bad to tell her how you fucking despised her. How she disgusted you.

Except you didn’t hate her. No, you could never hate her, not even in the slightest. What you hated was that no matter what she did, how low she stooped, how unforgivably she acted… you still loved her. Sure, it was bad when it was bad, but when it was good? She knew how to make you feel too fucking good.

“Get fucked. Go find that other bitch to beg for you,” you jeered like a brat while shutting your legs. Almost immediately after those words left your lips, her hands flew around your thighs and roughly yanked you towards her, your back now slightly lifted away from the sofa. A gasp rushed from your lips, completely caught off guard by the way Ellie handled you.

Her grip traveled toward your inner thighs, her fingers pressing hard into your skin. You were almost fully convinced that you’d see the bruises peppered across your skin later, but you were too enthralled to bring yourself to care.

“I don’t fuckin’ think so,” Ellie muttered at you, lowering her face between your legs so that her lips inches away from your cunt. Without hesitation, her tongue hungrily slipped over your clit teasingly, over and over as that familiar tension grew in your stomach again. You bit your lip, and held your breath, trying to fight the urge to grab a fistful of her hair and plunge her tongue further into your pussy.

You tried, and you failed. Miserably.

“Oh fuckkkk yessss,” you whined, unable to keep your composure at the sound of her sloppily lapping at your cunt. Your hands flew to her auburn locks and gripped tufts of her hair between your fingers, needlessly driving her face deeper into you. She hummed into your cunt in response, the vibration hitting your clit and sending shockwaves of pleasure toward that delicious knot growing in your core. “Don’t fucking stop, Ellie, please don’t fucking stop!”

Lustful green eyes peered at you from between your legs every few seconds, thirsty to catch every twitch and shiver as her tongue worked your bud. Heat grew beneath her boxers as she stole glimpses of your chest falling and rising…the way you licked and bit your lip with eyes closed as you fervently chased that release. The feeling was becoming frantic, and you found yourself desperately craving Ellie to put you over the edge.You needily rocked your hips against her face, her lips and tongue gliding effortlessly through your folds.

“Shittt, justlikethatbaby, please, just like that,” you whimpered, too close to bliss to curse yourself for crying out to her the way you promised you wouldn’t. But Ellie wouldn’t let that slide. “Right fuckin’ there, oh fuck right there!”

Moments away from a crashing wave of ecstasy, Ellie ripped it out from under you. She pushed herself away from your grasp to look at you fully, her nose and flush pink lips glossy from a mixture of your slick and her saliva.Your grip in her hair left her locks a wild mess, but the last thing on her mind was how her hair looked. The built up tension at your core dissolved again at the will of the girl you claimed to hate. And the dismay easily revealed itself on your face.

“Ohh, look at that. Look at who’s fuckin’ begging now,” Ellie squeezed out between her panting, a cocky grin helplessly spreading across her wet lips. She couldn’t care less how hungrily you had been chasing your climax; she wanted you to know that she won.

But before you were able to taunt in return, her hand came up and fell quickly, delivering another hard jolt to your pussy. Her fingertips directly stung your sensitive clit and an involuntary cry rang out from your lips. Your hand flew to your pussy to comfort the painfully pleasurable sting.

“You’re so easy to break, aren’t you?” she huffed, a self-satisfied smirk crooked on her face as she wiped off the wetness. Her resolve sobered you, almost competitively. You knew how bad Ellie had been wanting you, and you knew exactly how to take advantage.

“You’re one to talk. As if you’re not fuckin’ dripping…” you warned her, sitting up slowly to run your fingers across the slippery, wet spot you could see seeping through her boxers. Your hand trailed upward toward the waistband, as your fingers dipped beneath it. You could read each others’ eyes more clearly than you had ever before. A conversation was exchanged within a dark and carnal glare; you had read each other's minds and, without a single word, agreed.

She ripped off and tossed her boxers without hesitation and pressed your left leg back, positioning herself so that both your middles met perfectly. Her warm, slick cunt gently slid across yours, provoking a sharp inhale from between her teeth. With every wet and messy pass over your sensitive clit, that familiar, blissful strain began to build for both of you.

Desirous glares and nothing but the sound of frenzied breaths and slippery contact of your gushing pussies were driving you over the edge. Ellie’s bucking became desperate, low moans leaking from her lips in ways she knew she’d kick herself for later. Her fingers dug into the thigh of the leg she pinned back, the tension balling up in her stomach almost irresistibly. It didn’t help to watch you writhe in pleasure beneath her, with your pretty parted lips and breathy whines and moans.

“God, your pussy feels so fuckin’ good baby,” she managed to squeeze out in between sharp breaths and low moans, her left hand wandering toward your chest and roughly squeezing one of your tits. “I’m s-so fucking close.”

“Oh god, Els, ohhh fuckkkk, you’re gonna make me cum,” you groaned breathily, rocking your hips in time with hers, watching the sweat glisten off of her toned stomach in the warm lamplight. Watching her fuck you was pushing you over the edge, with her face screwed up in anticipatory pleasure, her lips wet and spouting the dirty sweet nothings you craved to hear.

“Shitttt, baby, cum with me,” Ellie growled, leaning forward to wrap her hand around your throat again, the purple and red marks from her brash kisses now more darkly staining your skin. The pressure of her grip closed in on your windpipe, dispelling any remaining breath from your lips and leaving no way to inhale again. You almost hated that she always knew how to make your climax the most intense ones you’d ever had. “Be a good girl and cum with me, baby.”

You could feel the blood rushing to your head while that euphoric feeling swelled in your lower half. Your hand flew Ellie’s hand on your neck which somehow gripped even tighter as that intense feeling rolled in her abdomen. She had squeezed her eyes shut, her brows furrowed in a desperate focus and her breath becoming shallow.

“F-fuck!” you tried to squeeze out from under her grasp, nothing but a whiny whisper leaving your lips.

You couldn’t help but go quiet as your eyes rolled back, your lips parted and the muscles in your legs and abs tensed. Ellie continued to grind herself against you, sending an earth-shattering wave of pleasure from your core, your back arching in pure electrifying bliss. You dug your nails into her forearm as she gripped your throat, her control of your breath amplifying the intense and muscle-tightening pangs of pleasure from your pussy.

“G-god, Y/N…” Ellie stammered out as you watched her eyebrows pinch at the center, lips slowly parting in ecstasy. She vehemently rubbed herself against you through her climax, unbridled and involuntary moans escaping her lips as her muscles tensed and flexed over you.

As the feeling began to subside, Ellie let go of your windpipe, allowing you to inhale an exhilarating headrush of air, goosebumps forming along your skin at the gratification.

She collapsed against you in calm exhaustion, her warm, damp skin sticking to yours as she lay on your bare chest. Both of your chests rose and fell as you descended from the euphoria you experienced moments before. Your hand almost instinctively came up to push her hair away from her sweat-beaded temples while she laid there. But you almost didn’t want to catch yourself.

“…Hope you don’t think this shit means I forgive you, asshole,” you said spitefully, to overcome whatever it was that you were feeling when you decided to brush her hair away. But you pushed her off of you as you both sat up, unable to meet each others’ eyes.

“Oh pleaseee,” Ellie mocked. “Had you screaming my name and you still hate me?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you picked up your oversized sleep shirt from the side of the couch. You worked on turning it the right way round and pulling it over your head. This time, you were able to meet her green eyes just for a fleeting moment, a flicker of disappointment behind them.

“Fuck you, Ellie. Yes. I still hate you.”

#shhskdjffj running away now #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams #writings #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x you

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just-a-sewer-goblin · 4 months

Text

Part 5 of Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Sorry guys this turned out crappy, I'm really unhappy with this one but I hope the next part will be better again. Finally we get to see readers perspective on things. Also name reveal of readers dog, finally. < Part 4 | COD Masterlist | Part 6 >

So there’s this new butcher. He’s kind of intimidating but he’s nice. At least you’re pretty sure he’s nice. He rarely speaks but the meat at that shop is the best so you power through the anxiety the big man induces (the first time you caught a glimpse of him you had to hide and gather your nerves before going inside).

God, he’s big. Built like a brick shithouse he looms over you even behind the counter. The fact that Wraith has to wait outside the shop makes you wring your fingers nervously on the regular. You’re happy that Simon, that’s what his name tag said, never gives off creep vibes.

Still, stepping into the shop always makes you want to curl in on yourself. Somehow the butcher has a way of taking up the entire room with his presence. The way he stands and moves makes you think he somehow got dominance drilled into his genes. Maybe if you go in often enough some of that will rub off on you, god knows you’d enjoy being a bit intimidating.

When he allows you to bring in Wraith with you, you reconsider. Simon isn’t just nice. He’s kind.

Sure he’s quiet and big and he could snap your neck with one hand (don’t think about that, don’t think about that) but he’s considerate. The consideration he showed for you also proved that he is scarily observant and you’re not sure you like that.

You hate being observed or looked at. You’d prefer to be a ghost, existing in the world but not being perceived. But since you don’t plan on dying anytime soon you got yourself your own personal bodyguard.

Wraith is the sweetest soul on earth and you’re not sure what you did to find him. He saved you in more ways than one and it seems you saved the scarred and tired dog too.

Being allowed to bring him into the shop with you helps a lot. As big and scary as the butcher is, Wraith could do serious damage to him if he so much as raised a hand against you.

So you’re pretty confident nowadays when you go to buy Wraith’s treats. Over time Simon has grown to be a new part of your routine and you don’t mind him anymore. He might be a goddamn intense man but he’s proven himself to be nice (you just pray that your intuition isn’t wrong with him).

You’d even say you’re more or less comfortable around him by now so when you walk in one day and hear one of your favorite songs play you can’t contain yourself. Maybe you’re making a fool of yourself in front of the butcher but the way he chuckles immediately soothes you. He doesn’t seem to judge you at all.

Still you’d be mortified by yourself (you can’t remember the last time you were yourself that much anywhere besides your own four walls) if Simon didn’t smile at you behind his mask and oh... His eyes are kind and sparkle lively with mirth; you’ve never seen him have an expression like that before.

Suddenly you realize how hidden the man keeps himself. Always behind a mask never any unnecessary movements, always controlled. To see his eyes so expressive is kind of a shock. But it’s a good shock, you decide.

It’s the first real conversation you have with him and it’s about music. That immediately makes you warm up to him even more. So much so, that you end up admitting that you don’t want to go to a concert alone.

You’ve barely recovered from making a fool of yourself and having the first real conversation with the butcher, when he pulls the rug out from under your feet:

”I’m planning on going to that concert, wanna join me? I’ll make sure you’re safe, sweetheart.”

#the sewer writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #butcher!simon x gn!reader #au #cod x reader

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 5 months

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Caught (Up) in the Act

Notes: Prompt # 7 from this Fake Dating Prompts list

Also for some reason tumblr isn't tagging past a certain point on my list?? So sorry if you didn't get a notification!

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Fake dating at a wedding; smooches

Summary: The little touches that Santiago had been giving you all night were honestly making you a little hot under the collar.

You were trying to hate it. You had to admit that it was a dire: being invited to an ex's wedding was a tricky situation. You only agreed because Santiago had been desperate (though the open bar and opportunity to get all dressed up had also been appealing). He had sworn up and down that he'd owe you one, that he'd never ask another favor of you as long as the both of you lived. He'd seemed to struggle even asking you in the first place, and for as much as the two of you got on one another's nerves, you couldn't find it in yourself to say no.

The little touches that Santiago had been giving you all night were honestly making you a little hot under the collar. It had started with hand-holding, progressed to wrapping his arm around your shoulders, dropping a peck to your cheek, and giving you a brief, almost tender kiss when he'd noticed his ex looking at the two of you across the room.

As annoyed as Santiago made you, every little touch was weakening your resolve.

He wrapped his arm around you now, giving you a little tug when you didn't lean right into his side.

"Would you just," He hissed through his smile.

"Just what!"

“You’re a terrible cuddler.”

“And you’re a terrible kisser, but you asked me to be your fake girlfriend, so stop complaining.” You knew it was a mistake the second you opened your mouth. Santiago glanced toward you, smile eerily intact as his eyes narrowed.

"...Would you like to run that by me again?"

God, just back down, apologize, tell him it was a joke—

"You seemed to hear me well enough the first time."

...Or make it worse, that was also an option. Your stomach flipped as Santiago slowly turned to face you, eyes resting heavily on yours. You could still apologize, couldn't you—?

You didn't have a chance before Santiago cupped your cheeks and drew you in.

The first time he'd kissed you had been so brief and soft—hardly a brush of lips. But this...

Your mind went blank as his tongue slipped past the seam of your lips, teasing against yours. You couldn't help the soft, surprised moan that bubbled up, tipping your head as he gently guided you. You knew that it was all for show—that there was a swarm of people around you, people that you would never see again. There was a woman on the other side of the room in a poofy white gown that had given up being kissed like this, with a passion that made your face go hot, and sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't bother to hold yourself back as you curled your arms around his shoulders, allowing him to draw your body fully into his.

You slowly opened your eyes as he broke the kiss, his nose gently brushing against yours. His gaze lingered on your lips before he met your eye.

"...What were you saying?" He murmured, a knowing smile curling his lips.

"That was, um..." You cleared your throat. "That was just fine."

"Fine."

"Mm. Mhm."

"You usually moan for 'fine'?"

"I'm just playing a part, Garcia. Trying to be convincing."

He didn't believe you for a second, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Well." He slid his hand around your waist, smile widening as you willingly leaned into him. "Could've fooled me."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Santiago Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia x You #Santiago Garcia/Reader #Santiago Garcia/You #Santiago Garcia fic #Santiago Garcia imagine #prompts

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xxsycamore · 4 months

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KING'S GAME

╰┈➤ ❝ I just need to know in case…❞ ❝ In case what? In case you take it a little too far in role-playing? In case you go down on me and the words mon empereur leave your lips? ❞ - After a round of some silly drinking game, MC can't help but have certain thoughts about Napoleon and how easily he takes on the role of someone in power. Naturally, she wants to know his boundaries of it.

Napoleon Bonaparte/MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Drinking Games; Alcohol; Shenanigans; Humor; Sexual Tension; Massage; Kink Negotiation; Sexual Roleplay; Power Play; Dominant Napoleon; Dom/sub; Master/Servant; Blow Jobs; Oral Sex; Choking; Dacryphilia; Stripping; Dirty Talk; Vaginal Fingering; Begging; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Aftercare • wordcount: 6,055 • masterlist

a/n: The idea for this fic was conceived long before an event of the same theme came to Ikevamp EN... We ended up not seeing them all play together in the game so I hope this right here fixes that, maybe? I have no idea how it ended up being that long. I guess I've been looking for the right opportunity to explore this part of Napoleon's character in a smut fic, namely his feelings about being called emperor and the likes in the bedroom. Hope you enjoy!

"Oh, I know! How about we play the Ousama game? It's a popular drinking game back home, in my era!"

It's rare for MC to be the one initiating activities on game nights, so naturally, all eyes are on her. Dazai is quick to give his enthusiastic approval, wanting to know more about a game that came after his time but originates from his homeplace. Sebastian smiles in a similar fashion.

"Good pick, MC. I think our residents are going to like it. Will you please excuse me for a second?"

As Sebastian stands up from the table and dashes out of the room, someone's comment oh my god, he's totally fetching his diary, can be heard. But really, there are no hard feelings. Everyone's more than happy to welcome Sebastian at the table and see him being more open and relaxed around his masters for once. Maybe it does have to be documented.

"It's not something like Arthur's games, I assume?" Isaac directs his gaze at MC, almost pleading under the surface for an affirmative response.

She rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. As much as she hates to disappoint him…

"Erm, it's basically a game of dares… but don't worry, you can always refuse a dare!"

"That's it, if you want to take the punishment, Newt." Arthur seems ready to dance on the physicist's nerves with a complimenting chin-cupping stance, elbows rested on the table and all. Theo rolls his eyes.

"Let me guess. Refuse a dare and drink a shot."

"That's correct." MC nods before Arthur can take more liberties at orchestrating her own game, even if they happen to be thinking in the same direction. "Let me go get what we need for the game!"

By the time Sebastian is back and patting his breast pocket suspiciously, so is MC, with a handful of… chopsticks. And a fountain pen.

"So, what I'm going to do now is write a number for each one of us… Vincent, Theo, Arthur, Isaac, Mozart, Dazai, Sebastian, Napoleon, and I…so that means numbers 1 to 8, and on the ninth chopstick, I'm going to write Ousama - which means 'King' - and then we shuffle the chopsticks in a cup - Arthur, can you pass me the empty cup next to you? - then we each take one but without showing our numbers to the others. Whoever gets the Ousama chopstick becomes King and he places a dare for someone, using the numbers! Is everything clear?"

"Uh. What kind of dares are allowed?"

Napoleon nods at the direction the question originates from. "Good point. Hey, maybe tone it down with the sexual stuff. There are taken people at the table."

Arthur snaps, "Why are you looking at me? I wasn't intending to. Besides, if a dare doesn't stand right with you, you can always drink and avoid it!"

Memories of other game nights seem to flood multiple minds at once, so MC lets out a half-chuckle half-sigh and moves on. She does take a mental note of the hint of possessiveness in Napoleon's comment just now who instantly got worried about another man being prompted to touch her inappropriately. As if anyone has the balls to touch Napoleon's woman, she thinks to herself… and kind of likes the way it sounds in her head.

It's a shame that Leonardo and Comte aren't joining them tonight and are instead enjoying a more sane way of getting alcohol in their system, in some quiet corner of the mansion. And Comte is totally not smoking a cigarillo right now while talking to his old friend, claiming that he hasn't had one in forever, again. And for that matter, Jean's presence is missed as well, but sadly (although understandably) he dislikes partaking in such activities. He's a lot like Mozart in this regard, with the difference that Mozart becomes another person when he drinks some. And that person loves joining drinking games with his buddies!

"If we're all ready - here we go!"

MC gives the cup a rather unnecessary bartender-style shake, assuring the chopsticks are well shuffled and ready to make it to all the wrong hands.

Once placed on the table, a crowd of hands quickly reach into the cup and sneakily withdraw in order to hide their new secret identity, with the exception of one person who has nothing to hide.

"I'm the king. My, I wasn't prepared for this."

As Sebastian holds up the chopstick of fate high in the air for all to see, a few pairs of surprised eyes catch his own. And something like a shimmer lights up in Sebastian's ones.

For someone as unprepared as him, he surely doesn't waste time on thinking about his next move. Not at all.

"Number 6, exchange a clothing item with number 1. Number 3, take off your pants without using your hands. And number 4 must do a handstand."

"By Jove, Sebas, your fetishes are showing!" Arthur blinks, both surprised and somehow entertained by the turn of events which (in his own head) kicks him off the position of number one most perverted person around the table. Or at least for the time being. He's only smiling now because he's safe, being the lucky number 7 and out of Sebastian's fantasies.

Isaac and Theo can't say the same. They exchange a look - eyes traveling up and down each other's frames - looking for a convenient clothing item to exchange, given their different builds. Theo is done with his choice first, and he reaches over the table to undo Isaac's necktie. The smaller man averts his gaze, turning his head away as much as he can so it's not in Theo's way, or perhaps out of embarrassment, but it's over before it ever began thanks to Theo's rough but effective methods of freeing the cloth from under his collar. Using the chance coming with the shortened distance, Isaac snatches Theo's scarf in return as the most adequate thing to take.

"Aw, you two are boring." Napoleon mocks for change, drumming his fingers on the table with a smirk. Theo muses with the thin black tie in his hands, turning to Napoleon with an empty look and silently wrapping it around his forehead instead, tying it off at the side.

"Is this better?"

"Snrk. I don't know, what do we think, Sebas?"

"I approve of your new look, Master Theodorus. Or should I drop the 'Master'? I'm the King now, after all."

MC gasps, "Sebas! Oh, this game is dangerous…"

"Tell me about it. My first dare and I already have to drink. Woe is me." Dazai weeps, rising up from his seat to point at his hakama, making it impossible for him to complete the take off your pants without hands dare.

"Guess that leaves me." Napoleon sighs, pushing his chair back audibly as he stands up.

"Ooh! Go for it, Naps!"

"Good thing it went to someone who's in good shape. I bet it's a piece of cake for him."

"We'll see now." Napoleon smirks to himself, rubbing his hands together as he prepares to tackle the handstand. His eyes get serious for a second as he calculates it all, and in the next moment, his hands are flat against the floor changing the center of his weight. While he's upside down, the gravity makes his partly untucked shirt expose his abs.

Someone whistles, and MC finds herself staring. As if for the first time.

All too soon, Napoleon is back on his feet again, dusting off his palms and retaking his seat by the table. Sebastian is beaming. "I like this game. Thank you for the idea, MC."

"Thank you, MC." Mozart chimes in, for some reason, oblivious to Sebastian making history tonight as opposed to quietly observing it from the side like usual.

"Haha, you guys are welcome… so, let's do it again, shall we? Let's see who will be King this time around~!"

After the new shuffle of chopsticks, everyone seems a little more lively, a little more hopeful - some driven by revenge and some simply by the contagious evil brewing in the air.

"Who is King?"

Out of the people looking at their newly acquired chopsticks, Napoleon is the one who speaks up.

"I guess that would be me."

"It's Napoleon, huh…"

"Oh, how fitting! You were born for it, Naps."

"Haha, not really."

"My bad. You're an emperor, not a king. I'm so sorry, Your Majesty."

Napoleon snorts, not playing along - or perhaps his dismissing the extended apology is his way of playing along. MC raises an eyebrow, studying his reaction. Napoleon's attitude towards these things is… rather complicated, as he seems to both loathe his so-called days of glory and simultaneously accept them for what they are, a part of him. She's been confused more than once about what's a good way of navigating through the situation when the topic is brought up in their conversations. On one hand, she hates the change of expression on his face that makes her feel like winter has returned - even if it's never going to feel to her like how it felt to him, the cruel winter - on the other, she knows he hates it when people walk on eggshells around him.

But now they're all at least half-drunk and merely goofing around. No one's bothered to care about these things, and maybe Napoleon prefers they don't anyway.

"Number 5, hold three ice cubes in your mouth until they melt. Number 4, confess about a fetish you have in front of everyone. Number 2, crack an egg over Number 7's head. Number 1, give me a massage."

"N-Napoleon is a sadist!!"

"So cruel…"

And he's laughing too. Sadistic tendencies aside, his laughter sounds every bit as genuine (and loud) as MC always remembers it to be, and it's strangely soothing. Maybe she should refuse a dare just for the shot, just to drown her worries a little more… Taking a look at her chopstick again because she thinks she heard her number, she sees a 1.

Theo goes somewhere, for ice presumably, despite Sebastian's offer to do it in his stead, and Arthur follows. "Wait, I'll go for the eggs."

"Who got the fetish one?" Napoleon browses the faces of the ones left at the table to spot the flushed one. Vincent raises a hand.

"My fetish is, um… I don't really-"

"Come on Vincent-kun, we all have fetishes~"

"I think I could say… maybe… um.."

"Yes? Go on, say it. We won't judge."

"I'd love it if my partner would touch themselves and let me watch."

"That's perfectly normal, Master Vincent. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Woah, it's both very vanilla and somehow kinky at the same time..." MC muses out loud. "Oh, but nothing to be ashamed of, certainly!"

Arthur and Theo return, with the latter immediately taking note of Vincent's beet-red face.

"What did I miss? Broer?"

"The fetish dare… Don't worry, Theo, I just had a shot instead."

"Oh, that's good. I mean, no it's not! Napoleon, how dare you make mjin broer take a punishment!"

"It wasn't really- Anyway, Theo, let's shut you up now."

Theo groans, dragging on every move as if giving the ice a chance to melt as much as possible before the inevitable contact with his mouth. At last, there's nowhere to escape and he pops the cubes in his mouth, thankfully they fit.

"Okay, I've been waiting for this. Who gets an egg in the head?"

"It's me… I hate this game…"

Isaac cards his fingers through his strawberry locks, as if for one last time while they're still egg-free. In the meantime, Theo's expression twists, less out of sympathy and more because the ice begins to torture him from the inside out.

"And the executioner?"

"Master Isaac, I'm truly sorry, it's me." Sebastian raises his gloved hand.

"Ahahaha! Haha!" Mozart laughs at the turn of events seeing a servant disserving his master. Or maybe the reason behind his laughter is nowhere that complex. One thing is certain, for some reason, he always gets out of the bunch's drinking games taking no damage in the form of nasty dares and punishments.

Sebastian stands up reluctantly, then sits down again. "Should I just drink? But I have to remind, I can't hold my liquor very well, I'm afraid."

"Just get it over with. I won't be mad at you or anything."

Sebastian sighs to show a little more reluctance before committing the deed. He looks like he's trying to miss his target, but unfortunately the raw egg still perfectly lands on Isaac's head, quickly descending down his face. Isaac's grossed-out expression mirrors Theo's current agony. As someone hands Isaac a handkerchief to wipe off the sticky mess with, another jokingly calls the sight erotic…

"Alright, I'm ready for my massage. Who shall serve the King?"

Napoleon relaxes back in his seat demonstratively in anticipation. It's a bold invitation, and everyone looks up to see the chosen one.

"My king."

MC stands up, showing her chopstick marked with the number 1. She tries to mute the sound of the others' reactions in her head as suddenly her pulse speeds up.

Napoleon flashes her a grin.

"Very well. The King is expecting you."

He lifts his glass to his lips as he hasn't touched it since the beginning of the game, probably deeming it worthless with the nature of the game. Not that he's expecting to be drinking anytime soon - he's simply not the type to back out from any dare unless it's too ridiculous even for him. Maybe that's why he started to miss the warmth at the back of his throat.

As MC makes her way to where he sits, she witnesses the singular bobbing of his Adam's apple when he gulps down the liquid, and she watches dumbstruck for a second as he motions for her to take a sip if she wants to, from the same glass. Well, yes, she finished her own drink a while ago. She accepts the glass from his hold.

"Now, what kind of massage should I request? Hmm…"

Arthur's dirty remarks fall on deaf ears as MC focuses on not choking on the liquid in her mouth.

Napoleon is a giver.

But there's something damn attractive when he allows himself to take from others.

"The king orders you to rub his shoulders."

And it's damn attractive when he's commanding like that. She sees now what the others were referring to in their provocations earlier - it rolls so, so easily off his tongue when he gives an order like this. Even if it's for a stupid game, the sharp look he gives her feels rather… real.

Not that this is anything new to her. For all Napoleon's gentleness, in the bedroom, he has this side of him that colors him rather dominant. And she'd be lying if she said she's gotten so used to it by now she doesn't feel anything between her legs right this moment. Instead of being a liar, she blames it on the alcohol.

Standing behind Napoleon, MC puts her hands on his broad shoulders… and really, it's been a while since she last gave him a massage. Usually, it's the other way around, as Napoleon added it to his ever-growing list of skills, even if initially it was something he'd never done before, given his status in his past life. Now she has his shoulders all to herself to knead and push at, and she catches herself putting selfishness in the act of service. Because she can't help but have impure thoughts.

Napoleon groans. It's quiet but she catches it over the cacophony of other noises in the room coming from the rowdy bunch. They're already setting things up for the next round, and here she's still stuck on her dare. She doesn't want to go back to her seat. Maybe Napoleon can read her thoughts like he always does and offer her his lap for the rest of the night; maybe he will go further and excuse the two of them for the night-

One hand at work, she reaches the other into the cup because they tell her to, and it appears to be Isaac's turn to be King. Good for him, but bad for everyone else. Seems like it's going to be a long night…

Later in the night and a few more rounds down the line, apples have been eaten without hands, glasses have been downed, a few mounts were the targets of unpleasant substances, either deadly spicy or deadly sweet, some clothes have been removed, some eyes filled with tears - and the collective level of soberness in the room has been drastically lowered.

It's a surprise how they even managed to put an end to it before the sun came out when naturally there's always someone who didn't get a chance to take revenge on someone else. Napoleon and Theo, being the best at holding their liquor as per usual, felt it their duty to help the others to their rooms.

MC didn't have much to drink, otherwise she'd be asleep on the pile of residents by now. Not that she intended to retain some of her soberness, it simply happened - because the bubbling feeling in her chest wasn't caused by alcohol, to begin with.

Napoleon, always the caretaker. Maybe if she throws herself at him he'll carry her to her room as well.

"Goodnight, Theo, go get some sleep." The sound of him returning after separating from Theo interrupts her daydreams.

Once he sees he's all alone with MC, he offers her a smile.

"And we're the last ones again. C'mon Nunuche, let's go to our room."

"Carry me?"

MC tries her best puppy-dog eyes at him, and he tests her for a second like it doesn't work on him. He then gawks at her laziness, hoisting her up his shoulder and giving her ass a little spank. "Let's get you to bed, naughty Nunuche. Some of those guys will be mad at you for weeks, you know? But you better not give them those eyes. Only I get to see them."

"Mm…Napoleon?"

The varnished floorboards creak under Napoleon's steps as he makes his way down the hall, holding MC's weight securely. "Yes?"

"Do you really enjoy it? You know, being treated like a majesty."

It's a short trip, and MC's perspective soon goes back to normal as the floor and the walls swap their places once more before her eyes. Not that she's interested in it, so she throws herself at the bed in the next second, sinking in the welcoming embrace of the comforter, not bothering with removing it at least for the time being.

"Pfft, where did that come from?" Napoleon says while closing the door behind him. The crickets are still singing their songs under their window, it can't be that late in the night.

"From the game. For a second I was worried it left a bad taste in your mouth."

"Hmm." Napoleon fake-muses, kicking off his shoes before sinking one knee on the bed. "I think I liked it when you were the one treating me like a majesty."

"No, don't joke, tell me seriously."

"I am serious though."

Somehow they end up in this position that doesn't help resolve the tension poisoning the air around them one bit; with him caging her with his body on the soft mattress and her having nowhere else to look at but right at his penetrating gaze. Her fingers twitch, nails catching into the fabric of the comforter, seeking a sense of stability.

"I just need to know in case…"

"In case what? In case you take it a little too far in role-playing? In case you go down on me and the words mon empereur leave your lips?"

Like a spark to the kerosene pooling low in her belly, Napoleon's words make beautiful explosions bloom behind her eyelids that have fallen shut amidst the last sentence. She takes a breath but it only feeds the fire as she can't help the way her exhale sounds raspy.

"Would you like that?"

"Would you?"

MC bites on her bottom lip. "This is not about me."

"I thought you wanted to serve your King."

She averts her gaze, because if she looks a little longer at this alluring jade gaze that reeks of sex, she'll be able to feel herself losing her composure, and she's trying to have a serious conversation here.

"I do."

"Hmm." Napoleon plays with her, trailing a hand down her modest home dress, prodding at the buttons at the front. "This is bad, I don't know what to ask for first. I've lost shape."

"Liar. You were perfect at it earlier."

"Someone's been paying attention. Were you also fucking me with your eyes? Right there, at the table?"

MC takes two sharp breaths, and it resembles panting, all too soon. It's out of irritation and not arouse, not yet. When she pictured their little game, she thought she'd just have to bow her head obediently and indulge in her desire to serve. Not enduring Napoleon's verbal teasing as any other night.

"Is it that bad? Will my King punish me now as he sees fit?"

Napoleon looks at her. For all the things that may be at the tip of his tongue, MC imagines most vividly the tone Napoleon would speak them in and how much he's cut for the role. Her soul sings at the thought, but it's nothing holy.

"Get up then. Don't you think it's a little rude to be lying down in my presence?"

That's fair. With renewed vigor, she pushes herself off the bed and waits readily by the side of it.

"Remember to not look me in the eyes. It's forbidden. You'll only look when I allow you to, if I allow you to. You'll have to earn my grace."

Instinctively, MC wants her nod to be accompanied by eye contact, but she corrects her mistake before it can even take place.

"Present yourself. Take it all off."

MC blinks surprisedly at how fast things are happening but isn't against it at all. She has the feeling that he is capable of making her do all sorts of dirty things with a mere flick of his tongue, undressing for him is nothing.

She makes a show of it, despite not having many articles of clothing on her to take off seductively - before long, she's stepping out of her dress that has pooled at her feet, and she retakes her previous position.

"I'm pleased with what I'm seeing. Come closer. Kiss me."

He doesn't have to ask twice. It's something familiar and yearned for since they crossed the threshold of their room—hell, no, since they took a seat at the table for that game. It's welcoming and fulfilling and it's just what she needed-

Or so she thought, until she terribly embarrassed herself with a rather awkward and rigid pressing of lips against lips, and no movement. In her selfishness, and out of habit, she left her mouth open for Napoleon's invasion. But she's forgetting to consider that kings get tired of their conquests too.

She summons her boldness and turns the desire in her veins into fuel for action. She shoves her tongue in Napoleon's mouth, but gently, not with the intention to dominate, but rather to serve. To kiss him until he gets enough. Her tongue swirls against his own, the movement rather clumsy, the making out of a juvenile rather than that of a skillful lover… but it's what he wants. He wants to see her seduce him, use every millimeter of her body for his pleasure, and keep going until he has his fill.

A thin string of saliva connects their lips upon her withdrawal, and her eyes are shut tight. She has to keep them shut, otherwise she'll look right at him. Napoleon chuckles.

"You may open them."

She does, and the sight is not kind on her fragile composure. Locking eyes with Napoleon has never felt like this, like a privilege, and exploring this new feeling is exciting.

"You're not half bad with your mouth. Undress me and put it to use."

Heartbeat thumping in her ears, MC finds it impossible to conduct herself in that moment; to sturdy her hands into performing the task and to break her gaze from his piercing pools of jade. She starts with the shirt, more tugging at the buttons rather than precisely undoing them, before pushing it completely off his shoulders, and finally letting it fall to the floor. He's glorious with just his trousers on and that scrutinizing, almost cold gaze. She opens the fly enough to take his hardness out, and her stomach tightens instinctively.

She wets her lips and parts them, taking in the head of his cock, letting it rest on her tongue. Even when her world narrows down to the hot pulsing flesh in her mouth, she catches herself dividing her focus between pleasuring her lover and.. the position she's doing this in. There's a little bit of getting used to it being required, and it makes her realize how unfamiliar that is - her being on her knees, on the hardwood floor, and Napoleon standing upright. When was the last time they've found themselves in that exact arrangement? It could've happened once or twice before, in the heat of the moment, or when the space had limited them. But never intentionally. Not because MC has anything against it - rather, it would be Napoleon who changes the position whether he's about to receive oral. He makes sure he's at least sitting down at the edge of the bed, where MC can rest her hands on his hips, or on the bed. Where he can see her better, to check up on her. Now she has to look up to see him, and he seems so far away, or maybe her eyes are doing tricks on her, or maybe her vision is blurring because she accidentally took his cock too deep down her throat and now tears are gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Napoleon brings his hand over her head and collects a fistful of her hair, one unfamiliar thing after another - but before intimidation can mix into her blood, she breathes in deeply, because it's not him forcing her down his cock, it's him forcing her off it.

He holds his cock firmly by the base as he directs it at her parted lips again, but doesn't breach the gap between them. He simply rubs his cockhead on the soft cushion of them, gathering the saliva that starts to droll down and smearing it back on her lips.

"A pretty mouth indeed."

MC can only look at him. She looks at him like she's looking straight at an open flame.

"Next," Napoleon begins, cupping her chin and caressing with his thumb where his cock used to be just a second ago. "I want you to go on the bed and show me the position you want to be taken in. Can you do that for your King?"

MC finally averts her gaze; it happens involuntarily, purely as a reaction to another surge of surprise and embarrassment.

"I— Yes, my King."

Napoleon angles her chin up, a signal for her to rise to her feet. Yes, that would be a good start.

The bed is just two steps away from where she is but MC feels like she can trip thrice on the way there with how much her legs have turned to jelly. Still, she makes it. There's not much room for thinking this through, for deciding on what would work out best for both of them - normally it's him who takes these decisions, anyway - so once she leans forward on the bed, she gives way to impulsivity and the way it saves her from having to give it any more thought. If she has to name the reason, it would be that it aligns with everything that Napoleon is tonight. Of course it would be fitting if he were to take her on her hands and knees.

"Does this… please you?"

She hears the rustling of clothes behind her back, probably the sound of Napoleon getting rid of his trousers, before he approaches her. He doesn't say anything about approving the position or not, and MC can't decide if his silence is worse. He comes to stand right behind her, and she crawls a little closer to the edge of the bed to make sure their skin is touching. Napoleon lets one hand roam from the fold of her knee up to the curve of her butt, and MC jumps lightly at the touch. Needless to say, she's sensitive and oh-so neglected. Her insides throb at the mere proximity of Napoleon's slender fingers close to her sex - it's a miracle she doesn't come undone on the spot as he actually directs his touch to the apex of her thighs. Wetness catches on his fingertips and he wastes little time caressing her folds before plunging two fingers inside.

"Nnghhh…" MC tosses her head, trying her best to enjoy the feeling of finally, finally claiming some pleasure but without losing herself completely in it. Napoleon twists his fingers until his open palm is facing upwards, thrusts in and out a few times in a way that doesn't intend to bring pleasure but rather to prepare - and then his fingers audibly and briskly exit her wetness.

MC whines at the loss of his fingers but finds a new fire sparkled to life inside her, and she's more than happy she wouldn't have to wait any longer for the next dose of intoxicating pleasure.

"Good girl. Do you want my cock?" Napoleon asks, openly and greedy. He's not risking having her beat around the bush by posing a more generic question like what she wants next. They both know the answer to that already.

Not that he spares her the torturous reminder of what she'll get by saying the right thing. He rubs his flushed tip on her glistening folds, pressing it in enough to just barely catch on her entrance; to make her bite her tongue and assume he just might show mercy and put it in without her pleading for it.

"I- Yes, please, Napoleon— take me, fuck me! Please…"

She only realizes once it slips out that she used his name and not the object of their little game of pretend that is his title, but there's no going back.

Napoleon doesn't punish her for it. Instead, he rewards her, giving her what she wants most. The groan he lets out as the familiar warmth and tightness enfolds his aching cock is telling of his own desperation.

MC cries out at the intrusion, only now understanding the difference of not having him finger her for longer prior to this. It doesn't hurt - she just feels a little fuller somehow. A little on edge. He gives her time to adjust, however, and she just basks into this dangerous feeling for as long as it's there until he carefully withdraws only to give it another thrust.

"Ahh!" Her insides squeeze around Napoleon again, as he goes in deeper this time. She blames the position, trying to reason out why she feels him in her guts. Napoleon withdraws again, and then pushes in, trying to fit even more of himself inside.

"You're taking me so well. I'm so deep inside you, I bet you can feel me in your deepest parts."

She groans at his words and their truthfulness as his thrusts grow rhythmic, the place where they're connected burning with the delightful friction, and her arms soon give out. She buries her head between her hands, enduring the change of angle as her rear sticks out, and Napoleon keeps pounding at her. His own sounds of pleasure are barely masked by the sounds of skin on skin, but he's not hiding them either. He lets her know how good she's making him feel, telling her something dirty in a low voice that she can barely register over the drumming in her ears.

"You feel so good- merde- Ngh. I want to stay inside you forever."

He's always holding her tightly when he fucks her, his grip being strong enough to leave marks the following day, but there's something about the way he takes hold of her hips now. At first, MC thinks nothing of it, lost in euphoric pleasure. It's only when she feels her knees being lifted off the bed that she understands what's happening.

Napoleon rises up her bottom to meet his hips, in his standing upright position, taking full control of her body in that moment. He's so strong, making it all seem effortless; and it's not a matter of matching his thrusts anymore - she can't do anything. She's facing away, with one pair of limbs immobilized and the other grasping uselessly for purchase at the covers. Her whole body rocks back and forth, feeling like a ragdoll in Napoleon's arms. There's something primal and simultaneously embarrassing about how good it feels to give herself over to him like that; about the trust she puts in him to have her completely at his mercy.

And then Napoleon stills inside her. And he groans. And before she knows it, a warm spray of come hits her walls. Her eyes widen, only now realizing they've already been going at it for a while, for a while enough that he seemingly couldn't hold back and—

And maybe he just didn't feel like waiting for her to come before he does.

The realization makes her dizzy in an unexplainable way, and she moans so loudly she feels herself pathetically falling into that bottomless fit, just like that, just as Napoleon takes his cock out of her. It's petrifying, coming without him inside her, but strangely the pleasure never ceases. His hand finds his way between her quivering thighs and shoves them apart in a quick manner, beginning to rub at her clit; whispering praises against the skin of her nape, enveloping her smaller body with his own from behind as she presses into the bed so violently, chasing after her peak.

"Come for me. Come for me and scream my name."

And that's enough to tip her over the edge. Coming with Napoleon's load inside her intensifies the feeling; the way her insides are still remembering his shape, the way she's so full yet so empty. It makes her see stars.

"Napoleon— Ahhhhh!!"

"I'm here. I'm here, mon amour."

Napoleon holds her trembling form as he draws out the last of her high, gently moving her into a spooning position. He keeps touching her everywhere, her belly, her breasts, the curve of her shoulder, caressing all the spots that went unloved in their game.

"I felt— so good I thought I might die—"

Napoleon huffs out a breathy chuckle, and it tickles the babyhairs at the base of her neck.

"I'd be lying if I said this doesn't stroke my ego, Nunuche.", he whispers, and it's somehow more shiver-inducing than anything he's said that night. "I think you might be right. I might be enjoying myself a bit too much when I'm calling the shots."

MC turns her neck just enough to look at him from the corner of her eye. She studies him again, with his disheveled hair and boyish smile and his low tolerance of putting up a front now that he gave voice to his most basic instinct and let it rob him of the ability to give anything more thought than he needs to. She leans in for a kiss and he takes the initiative enthusiastically but ends up drawing it out to make the remaining endorphins dance slowly between their bodies.

Letting the tiredness in her limbs settle in just like the fact that the room is several shades a brighter blue than how they entered it, MC only nuzzles back onto Napoleon's chest, trying not to give voice to the heat between her legs beginning to awake again without a sense of the time.

"And I might just love to see you like that. Mon empereur."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @devonares @galaxyprison @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza @my-day Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

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mouseymilkovich · 28 days

Text

Speechless | Carmy x Reader | Final Chapter

previous chapter | masterlist | playlist | pinterest board

Chapter Summary: It's time for Sydney to look for a new job, and your fight with Carmy is still plaguing your mind. Then, miraculously, you both end up right back where you started— The Beef, face to face with the one and only, the chef your best friend long revered, Carmen fucking Berzatto. How will things resolve? Will they even resolve? | Carmy Berzatto x fem/afab reader (using they/them pronouns)

Content Tags: Nothing really! Mostly just angst. Enjoy the ending <3

Important Info: (texting) blue = Carmy

Chapter Seven: All I Ask

Word Count: 1.8k

It felt weird, helping Sydney find a new job, not going to The Beef, not hearing from Carmy. At least you had Sydney back and you could talk to Marcus... but, still, the lack of Carmy's presence left a hole in your life you didn't notice before he occupied that space.

"If you don't find anything soon, I'll help you with rent this month—"

"You don't need to do that." Sydney muttered, cutting you off.

"I know I don't need to, Syd. But I want to." You sighed, looking over at her as you kept down the sidewalk.

"You don't have to keep making things up to me. I still forgive you." She laughed softly, nudging you with her elbow.

"Oh my god! That's not why—" You groaned, then laughed a little. "Is it so wrong to want to keep my best friend on her feet?"

"I will be fine, okay?" Sydney reassured.

You responded by sticking your tongue out at her like a damn child— but, that was something you'd often done when the other wouldn't accept an offer of help.

"Real mature." She teased before sticking her tongue back at you.

You two stopped in a cafe for lunch, getting inside and away from the chill of the Chicago air. You both sat at a small table, across from each other.

"How are you doing, by the way?" She asked you softly.

You sighed softly, but forced a little smile. "Fine. I am totally fine."

"What did we say about secrets?" Syd reminded, giving you a slightly stern look.

You sighed again, and held your face in your hands for a moment while you gathered your thoughts. "Okay, I'm trying to be fine... but it's hard. I kinda fuckin' fell for the guy and it feels a bit like he stepped on my heart... it's stupid."

Sydney sighed softly, she reached over and grabbed your hand. "Your feelings are not stupid, you're allowed to just... feel. You know that."

You nodded, giving your best friend a small smile. "You're right. It's just... hard."

"I hope you know he's fuckin' stupid for saying that to you. If I knew before I left, I would've smacked the shit out of him." She reassured you, hoping to get a smile out of you.

You did smile a little wider. "Because you're the best."

That's when Sydney's phone buzzed. Carmy... that motherfucker.

"What'd he say?" You asked nervously. You hadn't felt your own phone buzz— he didn't text you.

no acid.

Your face scrunched up after Sydney showed you the text. What?

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" You asked.

"I'm assuming something to do with the short ribs... whatever." Sydney groaned, setting her phone down as someone came to take your order.

She left Carmy on read for a while during your lunch. Though, it plagued your mind why he'd text her and not you— then your question was immediately answered, when Carmy sent her another text that her final check was waiting for her at The Beef.

You'd told the waitstaff beforehand that you'd be taking care of the check, and while Sydney protested to you that you should be splitting it, your own phone finally buzzed. Honestly, at this rate you'd thought maybe it was Marcus, hell, even Richie, or anybody else. But, no.

i'm sorry.

And that was it.

"That's it. We're going so you can get your last check and so I can give him a fucking piece of my mind." You decided, after the bill for lunch was taken care of, getting up with a huff.

"Are you sure?" Sydney asked with a little frown, following your lead and getting up herself.

"Oh, yeah. Just I'm sorry and that's it?! Who the hell does he think he is?!" You huffed, marching towards the door.

"Fucking hell..." Sydney sighed as she followed you out to the sidewalk. "What are you even gonna say to him?"

"I don't know yet! But I'll figure it out when I see his stupid fucking face!" You practically shouted.

Sydney sighed again, but followed you as you made your way down to The Beef. Of course, you legitimately had no idea what you'd actually say to Carmy, every word buzzed around your brain like fucking flies. And somehow, when you actually got to The Beef, there was nothing you could think of.

"Maybe I shouldn't go in." You muttered to Sydney as the pair of you stood at the door.

"C'mon, you're not gonna make me face him alone, are you?" She asked, nudging you gently.

You sighed deeply, but looked over at her. "No... no, I'm not gonna make you face him alone."

Both of you stared at the door for a moment. Was it an exaggeration to say that this felt like climbing Mount Everest? Probably. But, that's what it felt like right now.

Finally, you bit the bullet and opened the door, letting Sydney go in first. You had half a mind to bail and run the other fucking way— but, you knew if you did that, you'd never hear the end of it. So, you took a deep breath and followed her inside.

The sight that greeted the both of you was... unexpected, to say the least. Every single staff member with can openers, opening those damn tomato cans that he'd complained about. You kept hearing about him wondering why Mikey had gotten the smaller ones when the larger ones worked out to be cheaper.

You and Syd both met Carmy's gaze. You weren't sure if you could really read it entirely, but you did see something apologetic there— and, of course, his stupid pretty blue eyes were one of your weaknesses.

Marcus stood up, looking over at you two and held up two extra can openers.

You and Syd exchanged a glance, then set your stuff aside and silently went to help.

"Why am I even doing this? Carmy probably does not give a single shit that I'm here." You thought to yourself.

As Carmy spoke to Sydney, you stayed over by Marcus. You decided that you were doing this for Sydney and Marcus, you didn't owe Carmy a damn thing for his stupid, bullshit apology over text. You barely registered what they were talking about, you just focused on the globs of tomato you dug through to pull out wads of cash. At this point, you didn't care enough to ask why there were wads of cash wrapped in plastic and encased in tomatoes.

Well, at least opening and crushing the cans was somewhat therapeutic. You barely caught when Carmy finally spoke to you.

"Can we talk?" He muttered.

You looked up at him and shrugged a little. "I guess."

"Alone, I mean..." He said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Oh great.

You cleaned yourself up, and went with Carmy to the office. You had half a mind to just start screaming at him, but before you could even get the chance to get a word out, he started to speak.

"I'm really sorry... about what I said. I was... in a bad mood and taking it out on everyone, including you." He confessed quietly, unable to look you in the eye. "I do like you—"

"I sense a 'but' coming." You commented.

Carmy nodded gently, finally meeting your eyes. "I do like you, but... I don't think I can be in a relationship, at least... not right now. I'm not... good at that shit."

You felt your heart break all over again. "I get it..." You muttered softly. "Um, thanks for being honest with me, though."

"That doesn't mean I don't wanna be friends, though." He told you, the tone of his voice held sincerity. "If... you forgive me, that is. Cus I wouldn't blame you if you don't."

"Did Syd forgive you?" You asked.

"Yeah, um... and we're talking about finally... opening our own place." He muttered. "And she said you could probably help."

You looked a little surprised— but, also somewhat relieved. Syd was gonna fulfill a dream of hers... wow.

"Okay... I forgive you." You said softly, looking at Carmy sincerely. "I just... all I ask, is... if anything gets too weird, being around each other... we can be honest and tell each other to fuck off, okay?"

Carmy nodded slightly in agreement, then held his hand out to you, giving you a slight smile. "Friends?"

You took a deep breath, then your hand met his for a shake. "Friends."

That fucking stung, but there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it now. If he didn't want a relationship, then he just didn't want one, simple as that— that didn't make it hurt any less, though.

You let out a soft sigh, giving Carmy one last parting kiss on the cheek... that was the one thing that seemed to render him speechless.

You both left the office, Sydney looked at you in anticipation to know about whatever had happened. But, the sadness in your eyes told her everything she needed to know.

After sharing a much needed hug with Sydney, you decided it was time to toughen up. Starting a restaurant was one of her dreams, and you knew she wanted you to be involved, you wanted to be involved. So, if that meant being just friends with Carmy, then so be it.

While the staff worked away on some spaghetti, you actually worked on a cake for everybody with Marcus, one of the things from the recipe book you'd made him.

It slowly settled over you that you would be okay, regardless of your feelings for Carmy. You could get over that... couldn't you?

"I can't believe The Beef is actually gonna close..." You muttered softly to Marcus as your cake baked. "Syd and I have... so many memories of this place from when we were younger. It's gonna be... just... weird."

"Yeah, it will be... but, I think it'll be a good thing too. Obviously the spirit of The Beef's always gonna live on here, but change can be good, yknow?" Marcus responded with a soft smile at you.

You smiled a little too. "Yeah... I guess you're right."

The cake finished baking, you and Marcus frosted and decorated it. Around the same time it was ready, everybody had the table set for family spaghetti. You were surrounded by so many people—

Sydney, your best friend. The Beef staff, including Richie and Marcus, the two men you'd grown oddly close to. Fak, who... was surprisingly allowed to join in for family. Sugar, who you liked, despite having barely gotten to know her. And Carmy... your friend.

As you all gathered to eat, you noticed Carmy hanging some cardboard in the window.

"The Beef is closed..."

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

tags ; @maggiesarchives @carmenberzattosgf @buendiabebeta @turtle-cant-communicate

wanna be tagged in any future speechless trilogy updates? leave 🫢 + an @ to tag in my askbox !

#queue up! heard chef #mouse writes #speechless #malewife [carmy]#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fic #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction

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starlost97 · 8 months

Text

— melt.

summary: After seeing how heartbroken the families of the people who work for the department get when they die, you decided to not get involved with anyone. You didn't expect, however, to have that ice wall melted away by someone — Jay Halstead — in your own unit. And when Jay got hurt in one of the cases, you couldn't help but be mad at him, and it didn't take long for him to figure out the why.

tags: fluff, personal favorite, kind of grumpy x sunshine trope, Jay Halstead is a smug bastard, gn!reader.

characters: Jay Halstead.

warnings: mention of near-death experience, swearing.

a/n: wrote this after episode 7 of the Percy Jackson series (hence the Asphodels mention) at 2AM. I was actually going to request that but I ended up wanting to write it myself! hope u like it :)

word count: 1,248.

requested?: no.

Grumpy, reserved, quiet. All words used to describe you. And they weren't really that mistaken.

There was a thick ice wall between you and the rest of the world. A wall that didn't allow you to build any deeper relationship with anyone. One that burned people with its overwhelming coldness.

A wall that you build it yourself a little over a month after entering the Chicago's Intelligence Unit. Specifically after you watched how destroyed a family felt after losing a relative who worked for the department.

You felt selfish for even thinking of getting emotionally involved with someone. What if something happened to you? To them? You would never forgive yourself. You'd be rooted in the Asphodels Meadows — trapped with your own regret for all eternity — if anything ever happened because of you.

Everything was going well with it. You weren't that happy, but you were happier than you would be if you carried all the guilt of putting a loved one in danger.

But you never could prepare yourself to the warmth of Jay Halstead.

How cheeky of you to fall in love with a sweet smile. But it was true. You felt pathetically helpless any time he laughed at your jokes and showed you his teeth.

It was bittersweet. His laugh sounded like heaven and it made your life a living hell. How could you not be selfish? How could you think of being a good person when he was so close to you?

You tried to rationalized it. Tried to think that he wasn't that good. That perfect. That it was just your love-starved brain romanticizing him to tempt you.

Which lead you to the mistake of getting to know him.

Everything got worse.

The attempt of hating his flaws turned out to realizing that his loyalty was too much for his own good. He would mindlessly die for you, without a second thought or regret. How intoxicating.

He was like a honey-flavored poison. The sweetest way to lose yourself forever.

And unfortunately, you tasted him. Not only that, but it was never enough. You couldn't get enough of him. He became everything.

So when he almost died during one of the cases because he risked himself a little too much to get information, you were mad.

"Will you tell me why you're not talking to me?" He asked you, leaning over your desk and tilting his head, letting out a sigh. "Come on, I could've died and you won't even talk to me?"

"It's exactly because of that." You murmured, annoyed, not looking at him.

"What? I didn't hear you." Jay said, getting closer.

"It's because of that!" You said, now louder. You two were alone in the office. You were finishing up some papers while Jay — who couldn't for the life of him be separated from you for more than a couple hours — made you company.

"You're not talking to me because I risked myself?" Jay asked, confused, watching as you got up from the chair and went to the break room.

"I'm not talking to you because you're irresponsible!" You answered, finally looking at him in the eyes. Your bodies facing one another.

"I did it for the case! We needed the info!" Jay argued and you groaned, massaging your temples.

"Oh, my God, you really don't understand, do you?" You brushed your hands against your face, trying to calm yourself down.

"No, I don't. You do things like that all the time, and usually is worse. But when I do it, I'm irresponsible?" He asked, frowning.

He looked at you, trying to understand what was wrong. You weren't like this. You didn't fight with people unless their actions harm the case. So what was happening?

It was when the realization hit.

You were worried.

"Detective," He called, flashing you that damned smile that you so desired to kiss. "are you mad because I could've died?"

"Wha- What? No!" You mumbled, taking a step back as he approached you.

"Oh, yeah?" He mumbles, smiling smugly at you. "Are you sure of that?" He asks, getting closer and closer.

"Y-Yes, I am! If you died, it would've been a loss for the team and all the time and money that they invested on you would go to waste and-" You gulped, feeling the cold wall against your back and watching as he trapped you, putting his arms on each side of your face. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You said, nervously pushing his chest, but not really wanting him to leave.

"Like what?"

"Like that! Staring at my lips! Stop it!"

"Or what?" He asked, smugly.

Your breath got stuck in your throat, and as the seconds went by, he got closer. His forehead was soon touching yours, and his smile only grew bigger.

"Looks just like a dream I had." He said, putting his hand on your chin. "It ended very well. "

You didn't answer right away, trying to process your thoughts. You wanted to give a good answer, something that would make him go away — even though you didn't really want that —, but a wave of curiosity hit you with the revelation that he dreamt of you.

"How so?" Your voice was almost inaudible.

"I got to do more than just kiss you." He whispered, as if telling a secret. "But I think that just being able to kiss you would already make me the luckiest man on earth."

Your gaze fell to his lips, and just the thought of kissing them got you nervous. Your heartbeat rapidly beating against your chest, and for a moment he thought that he could feel it too.

But it was actually his own.

"Please," He asked. It could be mistaken for a beg, but the smug look on his face said otherwise. "detective."

"I thought…" You were breathless. Your nervousness didn't let you speak properly, but still, for some reason, you knew exactly what to say.

"Say it."

"I thought you were a man of action," You breathed out. "detective."

He smiled.

His hands — painfully — slowly went to the nape of your neck, holding it as he pressed his lips against yours, devouring it slowly, torturing you with it.

The kiss was the epitome of breathtaking. His lips moved slow and tenderly against yours, savouring you like it was his last meal.

He could live the rest of his life devoting himself to kissing you. How could it taste so sweet?

Jay wasn't much of a religious man, and he was even farther of believing in Greek gods. But as he felt your body against his and your sweet kiss on his lips, he was sure that you must be Aphrodite's work.

Masterpiece, actually.

His hands traveled around your body, feeling your curves, trying to memorize it so he didn't feel so sad when they weren't against his fingertips — even though that he knew it would be his life's biggest torment.

And he got a taste of it when he had to part himself from your lips.

"What were you saying, baby?" He asked, with a smug smile on his face.

"Fuck you, Jay Halstead." You said before kissing him again, feeling his smile melt against your mouth as your fingers intertwined his hair.

"You wish." He mumbled against your lips, lifting you up by your thighs and wrapping them around his waist.

Jay warmth was definitely more than enough to melt the ice wall away.

#chicago pd #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x gn!reader #fluff #jay halstead fluff

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two-sibyls-tall · 10 months

Text

two-sibyls-tall official (dc) fic rec list:

OFFICIAL WARNING: FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING GOOD IN THIS WORLD, READ THE TAGS BEFORE YOU READ THE FIC

these fics are all ones I have reread many times- therefore each fic rec has a short summary afterwards that I wrote based on which scenes I randomly remember and want to reread so future me can find it easier.

miss me? - Jason came back to Gotham and attempted to torment his old family with his presence. Three of them have been mourning him so much that they don't even realize he's not a hallucination.

successor - Tim finds out who the Red Hood is early, and accidentally solves the whole problem.

Obedience - When captured by the Mad Hatter, Tim is chipped and forced to comply with any order that he's given. The batfamily doesn't notice for over a month.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress - Oh no. The Waynes keep getting kidnapped. Hopefully the Justice League will help, since Batman is an urban myth and all.

problem solver - Tim's been stuck in a time loop that resets at 1 am, so he's not particularly worried when he kills Damian at 12:59. Then the clock hits 1:01.

one step forward - Jason has slowly been reintegrating himself with the Bats. Unfortunately, Dick doesn't seem eager to forgive OR forget. Dick thinks that maybe his hallucinations of Jason are getting out of control.

In This or Any Other Universe - Dick Grayson travels to the Batman (2022) universe with just enough time to pull Bruce's reputation out of the dirt and catch a circus performance.

Baby Birds and Bat Caves - Tim Drake has found a way to the Batcave! The other tunnels that he passes with lazarus pits, forgotten gods, and concerning mushrooms are a fantastic backdrop for his new haunted radio show.

Call and Response - The Bird Call is a series of identifying whistles used by the Batfamily to check in without needing comms. The Bird Call is later used to bring a wayward Robin home.

Asimov’s Integral - Robot!Tim is NOT family- he’s only allowed in the Manor for as long as he helps fix Robot!Jason. Bruce keeps forgetting to tell him that’s no longer the case.

The Second Son - All the Waynes have been kidnapped in civvies. Oracle contacts the only vigilante in the city, Red Hood, to help them.

!! Shameless Self-Promotion Time !!

i've watched you so long, screamed your name - Timothy Jackson Drake was shot and killed at 8 years old. Six years later, he becomes Robin.

^^ This fic is one I wrote! From this fic you can go down two roads: The series 'my mind turns your life into folklore' focuses on Young Justice (yj98 from the comics, to be clear) and how they find family with a few supernatural perks. The series 'can't turn back now, i'm haunted' focuses on the Batfamily and their path to discovering that Tim is a ghost.

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lizzieisright · 1 year

Text

Heaven is here if you want it

soft dom!reader x sub!Abby

Summary: Abby is a people pleaser for her closest friends, but recently she started to say no to people. You reward her for it.

Tags: one shot, soft dom!reader, sub!Abby, oral (r!abby) fingering (r!abby) strap-on usage (r!abby), praise, hand on the throat (no choking), Abby calls reader ma'am. You dom Abby into asserting her needs basically 🤷‍♀️

The title from FaTM "Heaven is here"

MINORS DON'T INTERACT I'll hunt you for sport

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You’ve been making out for what felt like an hour, but Abby is soft and pliant in your arms, so you don’t think about stopping: with every kiss Abby gets more and more submissive, her previously strong hold on your hips turns into weak fingers on your neck as she chases your mouth shyly, not sure if she’s allowed, but you think she is cute like that.

"You've been such a good girl today." You purr and watch Abby's eyes glaze over. "Taking care of yourself, saying no to people. I'm so proud." You kiss her collarbone and feel her shiver. "How about you tell me what you want and I'll give it to you? How does it sound?"

Abby licks her lips and looks at you, a little uncertain if it was a trap.

"I'm not going to tease you, I promise." You chuckle, knowing exactly what she doesn't need right now. "Not promising to stop though."

Abby smiles and her cheeks go pink from arousal.

"I want your mouth, ma'am." Abby says shyly and you kiss her neck.

"Good girl." You praise, proud of her for voicing her needs, and she whimpers when you nip a little harder at her pulse point.

You help Abby to get out of her clothes and you look at her hungrily. She is so big but she looks so small under you, so shy even after so many times when you took her apart.

"Pretty." You take her nipple into your mouth and she gasps and twitches. Abby always gets more sensitive when she is in the subspace and you adore it. It's a fuel that keeps you going, keeps you wanting more.

You let her nipple out of your mouth with a pop and Abby presses her thighs together. "Needy?" You chuckle and Abby nods, shutting her eyes.

"Ma'am, you promised." She whispers, embarrassed by how fast she got so turned on. Usually it would make you slow down and tease her to no end until she'd be crying, and Abby half expects you to say "give me a minute" and then get her all desperate, but you obediently go down and get comfortable between her thighs.

Abby is already so wet there is a dark spot under her as her slick drips from her hole, and you grin as your mouth waters. God you fucking love eating her out, always starved for her.

You kiss her thigh all the way down, nipping and leaving pretty bruises on the old ones that have already turned yellow, and Abby twitches again and tenses, so impatient she wants to whine, but she trusts you and waits.

You kiss the place where her thigh meets her pussy and Abby bucks her hips just a little.

"I know, princess." You sigh as you kiss her outer lips gently, not parting them yet, but the pressure is enough for Abby to whimper.

You press another kiss to her mound and then finally open her up, licking a long strip from her hole to her clit and Abby gasps. You chuckle into her pussy and press your tongue on her clit, keeping your promise to not tease her. You start rubbing her clit up and down with a steady pace and Abby's breath gets heavier, little whimpers leaving her throat.

"Ma'am." Abby whines and squeezes her sides until she feels pain because it's starting to be too much, she is already close and your tongue is relentless on her clit. You hum in response and the vibration makes her jump in your arms. "Ma'am- Can I-" She chokes on her moan and you smile but move away, showing her she has your attention.

"Can I have your fingers, ma'am?"

You coo at her and your heart squeezes from love.

"Of course you can, princess." You kiss Abby's knee and drag your pointer finger over her pussy to collect her slick. Abby twitches when you touch her clit, her abs flexing, and you chuckle again. "I love how sensitive you are for me."

You slowly push your finger inside Abby and she throws her head back, whimpering and huffing. Abby is hot and soft and tight around your finger and you take a moment just to feel her, slowly dragging your finger back and forth, staring at the slick that is coating it.

You lean down and suck on her clit, and Abby tightens around your finger. She is breathing so fast she might as well be hyperventilating, but you only smile and crook your finger, hitting her spongy spot.

"Fuck!" Abby shouts out, grabbing at anything she can to ground herself. "Ma'am-"

You look at her, and Abby is desperate and her eyes are watering. She is so pretty and so hopeless, and you want to ruin her.

"Hold on to my hair, princess." You tell her and go back to rubbing her clit, basking in her choked moans. Abby does as she is told and tugs on your hair, pressing your face into her pussy.

You relax happily and let Abby move your head around where she needs you the most, and she is mewling and whining as you fuck her faster with your finger. Abby is soaking, her pussy is making that beautiful squelching sound, so tight around your finger you don't even think about pushing another one, certain she'd cum just like this.

You bury your face further into her pussy and pick the pace of your tongue and your finger, watching Abby hungrily. Her eyes are closed and she frowns, moves her head from side to side in desperation as her moans get louder and higher in pitch. Abby is sobbing and her thighs start to shake, the tell tale sign of her orgasm coming closer. You squeeze her thigh harshly and press it down to the bed to open her more, growling. You know Abby will try to get away from you when she'll cum and you aren't planning on letting her do that.

Abby tightens impossibly on your finger and you know she is going to cum so you press her thigh harder, digging your nails into her muscles.

"Ma'am-!" Abby chokes on her moan and you hum. "I'm -"

Abby doesn't get to finish her sentence as you rip the orgasm out of her, fucking her through it even though she is tightening around you rhythmically, pushing her slick into your palm with each heartbeat in her pussy.

You lap at her hole as you drink her up, absolutely pussydrunk, and Abby twitches and tries to get away, but you slap her thigh in warning. Abby stops moving around and just lets you have your way, whining and choking on her own spit.

You move away and look at Abby: she is so fucked out she is crying and you can't get enough of it.

"My poor girl, did I make you cry?"

Abby nods and squirms around because your finger never stopped moving, dragging over her sensitive walls.

"Good." You kiss her salty cheek gently and Abby holds you closer. "You needed to let it out, princess." You murmur into her neck. "Now, I'm going to fuck you with my fingers. Sounds good?"

"Yes ma'am." Abby's voice is hoarse and you kiss her throat as if it will help her. "Wanna be close."

Before that you planned on sitting between her legs, but if Abby wants you to be close, you'll happily oblige. So you lie down on your side, guiding Abby to put her head on your stretched arm - she immediately puts her nose to your neck, breathing you in, and you chuckle.

"You'll give me cavities, Abs." Abby laughs, a little bit more sober right now, but you both know it's not for long.

"I'll fix it." You laugh quietly and thumb her sensitive clit. "Fuck."

"You wanna two fingers?" Abby nods and waits. "But you're too tight, sweets, you need to relax for me, okay?"

Sweets means no arguing, no begging, no acting out. Sweets means that you won't let yourself hurt her, and won't let Abby hurt herself when she is desperate and careless.

You start moving your finger again, slowly, waiting for Abby's walls to stop squeezing you so hard. You like when she gets like this if you only plan to use one finger, but your plans for today are more.. ambitious.

"Good girl." You praise as you push your middle finger too, stretching her hole. "Good girl, Abby. You're taking my fingers so well."

Your words make Abby whine and tighten around your fingers and you kiss her cheek in appreciation. She is breathing hard now and you don't give her time to adjust, immediately picking up a fast pace, your palm hitting her clit every time you thrust your fingers into her.

Abby is whimpering again and nips at your neck slightly, knowing better than to leave marks. Your fingers feel so good in her, filling her up the way it makes her feel whole.

You push your fingers all the way up to the knuckle and thumb at Abby's clit while curling your fingers, and she starts to lose it, her hips bucking and squirming as she chases your fingers but also tries to get away, mewling and sobbing into your neck, but you're relentless. You grip her harder, pushing at her g-spot and pressing at her clit at once and Abby shudders so violently she falls back on the bed.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You chuckle as you start rubbing her clit and her g-spot faster. Abby whines and claws at your free hand by the side of her head, her bicep flexing and you just stare, your ego growing from the knowledge that someone as powerful and as scary as Abby willingly submits to you like this.

Trusts enough to feel safe to submit like this.

You lean down to her tits and take her nipple into your mouth again, sucking and nipping at it, and Abby lets out this high short whimper that sounds almost like she is in pain, but you both know she is so high on pleasure she wouldn't be able to tell her own name.

You bite down on her nipple gently, your fang digging into the bead, and you feel it again, her pussy locking in on your fingers as if Abby is afraid you'll pull out, so you thrust deeper through her tight walls and Abby sobs and closes her thighs, but you don't mind right now: she can press them together all she wants, your hand won't move away until she cums anyway.

"Cum, princess. I'll give you more, don't worry." You whisper into her ear and Abby whimpers. Her walls are pulsating now and you thumb at her clit slightly, just how she likes it, and- "There you go." You smile as you watch Abby going through her orgasm.

She is shaking and doesn't breathe before taking a huge gulp of air and then Abby is moaning low and loud and you continue thumbing her clit to help her ride her orgasm.

"Good girl, good fucking girl." You say, pleased. "So obedient." You kiss her neck and bite hard enough to contrast her pleasure, and Abby whines.

"T-too much, ma'am, it's too much." Abby sobs and you take pity on her.

You move your drenched hand and lick your fingers clean, because Abby tastes like fucking heaven and you don't want to waste even a drop.

"You taste so good, princess. I'm gonna lick you clean, okay?"

Abby nods, embarrassed: she always gets like this when you do that, but it only makes her look cute. This is a relaxing part for her, because you never go hard on her when you clean her up. Your tongue is soft and slow on her pussy and you lick all her slick without paying any mind to Abby - this is for you, this is yours.

Of course, eventually Abby starts squirming and mumbles “sorry” to you when she bucks her hips into your face, but you only chuckle and push your tongue inside to hear her whine. Abby is hot and wet, and she is leaking into your mouth again because it feels good.

“You’re wet again, princess.” You note as you move away. You push your fingers back into Abby and she jumps. “Needy again, huh?”

“Ma’am!” Abby whines when you thrust your fingers slowly. She is getting bratty and you frown, not happy with that.

“Be a good girl.” You say sternly and she quiets down. “I told you, you’re getting everything you want, just tell me. Or, you can be a brat and see where it lands you.”

“No-no.” Abby is looking at you now, upset. “I’ll be good, ma’am.”

Abby knows you hate when she acts out, and usually her promise won’t be heard and she'll be punished, but today so many things are different: today's a reward, and when Abby gets rewards, she gets to ask for anything and gets second chances.

“Tell me what you want.” You demand and Abby blinks, too focused on how your fingers are moving inside her.

You watch as Abby eyes the harness behind you, and you smirk: another thing she is shy about.

“You want me to dick you down?”

Abby’s face is red, but she nods, holding eye contact with you - a small gesture of being good. You chuckle and kiss her thigh before taking out your fingers and moving from the bed. Abby sighs, upset from being empty, but her mood is improved in seconds when you crawl back to bed. Abby spreads her legs to make room for you, but you shake your head.

“No, princess. I want you to ride me. Think you can do that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Abby nods, eager, and you smile.

“Good girl.” You kiss her, slow and deep and Abby melts, relaxes into the bed. Somewhere back in her head she notices it’s the first kiss since you started this, and Abby can’t understand how she survived without your tongue in her mouth for so long.

You put pillows a little bit higher and sit against the headboard while Abby moves to straddle you on her shaking legs. When she sits in your lap you kiss her again and squeeze her butt, making her arch into you.

“Give me a second, sweets.” You kiss her jaw and reach to the bed drawer while Abby waits patiently, even though she feels her slick flow down her thighs and drip on your strap when she shuffles a little to rub her clit against it. You notice and grin at her, and Abby freezes, embarrassed. “Feels good?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You hum approvingly and lube up the strap, accidentally brushing over Abby’s pussy and she mewls, surprised.

“Sit, princess.”

Abby stares at you for a second, too dazed and too out of it, so you help her sink down on your strap. She whimpers at the stretch, but she enjoys it so much she doesn’t stop until it’s fully inside her. You squeeze her waist painfully and Abby shudders, her knees pressing at your sides.

You take her in: her cute tits, the curve of her waist, her delicious hips, her pretty flushed face with her bright blue eyes. The light is on but there’s no one home right now in her head, and you’re proud of making her that fucked out. Abby is stoic and barks orders at people all the time, but she crumbles when she is with you, suddenly soft and obedient.

“My pretty girl.” You murmur and fuck up into her hard. Abby sobs and blushes at your words, her thighs shaking but not from fatigue. “Gorgeous.”

Abby whines and starts moving by herself, so overwhelmed with your praise, and you lie back and enjoy the view, not shutting up even for a second.

“Good girl, such a good girl, can watch you forever. So pretty, god I wish you could see yourself. Fuck, next time I’m fucking you in front of the mirror.” Abby whines again and holds onto your shoulders so she has more leverage and she is moving fast and hard on your strap. “Yeah, my girl is so strong, you can ride me for hours, don’t you?” Abby nods and doesn’t lose her pace, the sweat is forming on her collarbones and you lean to lick it and she is being so good she slows down so you could do it. “Oh princess, you’re so kind.”

You slam Abby’s hips down on your strap and she clings to your shoulders, and it’s so cute, but you have to reprimand her, so you grab Abby’s face by her jaw and make her look at you. You make sure your grip is not painful, but Abby is so good at following your commands you don’t even have to hold her, but you still do it to show who is in charge right now.

“You did such a good job putting your needs first today, right, princess?” Abby nods and her eyes are so wide when she looks at you. “So continue doing it.” You say more sternly. “Take what you need. You’re pleasing yourself. Try to accommodate me one more time and I won’t let you cum.”

“Yes ma’am.” Abby whines as she crumbles under your stern eyes.

“Good.” You kiss her neck and slap her butt. “Now move.”

Abby nods and starts bouncing on your strap again without a single thought in her head and you’re basking in her, caressing her sides and hips, nipping at her nipples when you get the chance. Abby is getting bolder - she is tugging your hair with one hand and you praise her again.

“Yeah, just like that. Take it, baby.” Her fingers tighten in your hair and you sigh. “So fucking pretty.”

Abby shifts and places her hands behind her, changing the angle and you can see how your strap disappears in her pretty pussy and you moan at the sight while Abby is moving her hips so hard her ass slaps against your thighs.

“So fucking addictive, pretty girl.” You chuckle and grab her hips hard, helping her slam back down on your strap. “You’re so loud, princess, it must feel really good, huh?”

“Ye- yes, ma’am!” Abby chokes on her moan and you know she is getting closer, your strap hitting her g-spot just right.

You smirk and move one hand lower so you could circle Abby’s clit with your thumb, and her pace stutters and doesn’t become steady again, so you use your other hand to lightly slap her butt to signal her to hover so you could thrust into her.

Abby puts all her body weight onto her hands and lifts up to give you space and this is it.

Your pace is fast and brutal and Abby can’t stop sobbing and whimpering because her orgasm is so close she feels how her muscles tighten around your strap and it just makes it worse because you hit her g-spot every time and it so much. Abby is crying again, the stimulation is so strong she can barely handle it.

You wrap your free hand around Abby’s throat, just holding her, and Abby is destroyed. She is shaking so hard and you’re fucking her through it, and she is crying from how hard her orgasm is hitting her. It’s so much it’s almost painful and Abby taps your arm two times to signal you.

You immediately bury your strap in her and stay still, somehow feeling her walls contract and relax around your strap. Abby’s thighs give out and she spreads them to sit on top of you, whimpering and breathing hard. You’re no better, but you don’t care about your breath because you’re watching Abby coming down from her high. She is magnificent, every curve of her is screaming softness and you caress her back to soothe her. Abby buries her nose in your neck again and you hold her, happy to be the person she trusts like that.

“Love you, princess.” You whisper in her ear and kiss her temple. “I’m s’proud of you, you did so well. My best girl.”

“Thank you.” Abby says shyly and you melt.

“Thank you for letting me do this for you.” You kiss her gently, pouring all your love into her. Abby's trust isn't something that one gets to earn easily. "Hold on to me, okay?"

Abby puts her weight on you and you slowly pull out, a little disappointed you didn't get to see how wet is your strap and how puffy is her pussy. Abby sighs and relaxes on top of you and you see how her back is arched. Her perfect round ass is on display and she is delicious.

"Shit, princess, you present yourself like that and we're not stopping."

Abby hesitates with her answer and you rub her back, comforting her. You know that Abby won't say no unless she has to use a safeword, so desperate to please you, but you want her to.

"Say no to me, baby. Be a good girl."

Abby sighs and nestles deeper into your neck.

"I wanna stop." She whispers and you hug her tighter, kissing her head.

"Good job."

You hold Abby like this until she comes to her senses and is fully out of subspace, caressing her back and shoulders, whispering sweet nothings to her.

"You're such a simp." Abby says to you, giggling, and you know she is out of the woods.

"You like it."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Abby rolls off you and you pinch her butt in revenge.

The routine goes like it always does: Abby takes a shower while you clean the strap and you stay with her in the bathroom: Abby likes to talk with you the whole time while you sit on the toilet lid, usually bitching about everything.

After shower you dry Abby off and brush her hair, knowing it is as intimate as any sex for her, and you're gentle, working over every knot with care, and Abby is so relaxed you usually make her go straight to bed and sleep.

'Come with me." Abby asks you and you know you still need to shower, but you can't say no to her.

Shower can wait until morning.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby anderson #sub!abby

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